


Through the Frozen Valley

by DoreyG



Category: Blake & Avery Series - M. J. Carter
Genre: Anal Sex, Feelings Realization, Fingering, First Time, Hand Jobs, M/M, Public Sex, Sex Club, Sex Pollen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-27
Updated: 2020-11-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:34:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27741577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoreyG/pseuds/DoreyG
Summary: “You must really care about your friend, to go this far for him.”He blinked a little at that, found himself staring into space as he thought about just how big a claim Blake had on his heart. “You have no idea. Besides my sister, I think he’s the only person who has ever seen potential in me in all my life. And that means a lot. He’s the smartest, bravest, most moral man that I’ve ever met and is one of only perhaps three people that I care for in the world. I would do absolutely anything for him, crawl on my hands and knees through hell if required.”
Relationships: William Avery/Jeremiah Blake
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	Through the Frozen Valley

It had been almost a week since he had last seen Blake, and he was near out of his mind with worry. Logically he knew that Blake could generally handle himself, often better than he could handle _himself_ truth be told, but that didn't stop the worry from clawing in his chest and overtaking his every moment. Blake would probably call him foolish and prying, and would probably right to do so, but he had long grown resigned to the fact that he wasn't about to stop caring about the man any time soon.

He was also a poor detective compared to Blake, but he was determined and had a few contacts of his own by now. They had led him to a small, out of the way club in the middle class area of town. Far less dilapidated than he would've expected from Blake, but shabby enough that he didn't suspect Collinson's hand.

All the way there he had debated with himself inside his head. Had told himself that this was foolish, impetuous, downright invasive. Blake had been alive and well the last time anybody had seen him, he really should just turn on his heel and let the man seek him out again in his own time.

But the thought was anathema to him. And here, standing outside the place where Blake had disappeared into, he found that he could not bear it for a single second longer. He hesitated for only a moment, and then gathered himself up and strode purposefully to the door.

Strangely enough, it was the middle class nature of the establishment that thwarted his initial charge. In a seedier place nobody would've cared, in a higher class one an appropriate amount of bluster would've probably got him through. Here the Doorman took one look at him, and stopped him with a palm to the chest. "Sir, you can't just go in."

He took a step back, attempted his best authoritative glare. It, admittedly, took a lot of inspiration from Blake. "You can't stop me."

But, alas, he wasn't Blake. And so instead of cowering the doorman just gave him an openly unimpressed look. "I rather think that I can, sir. It's my entire job, you see."

He sighed, pinched his nose between his fingers. He had no time for this, all he wanted to do was see Blake and take care of him as much as he was allowed. "Look, my friend is in there. I just want to make sure he's okay."

"Plenty of people have friends in here, sir," the doorman said mildly, looking at him in a way that lacked malice but was still regrettably firm. "That doesn't mean that I can let any of them in."

"Look-!" He started hotly, and then just sighed and buried his head in his hands instead. This poor doorman wasn't the enemy, and he found that he didn't quite have the energy to take his roiling misery out on him. "I understand your position, but I really need to see him. He's the person I care for most in the entire world, and I need to see that he's okay."

It sounded like a lie, an elaborate deception for the sheer purpose of getting what he wanted, but it wasn't. He cared more for Blake than any other person he'd ever met, any other person he could even dream of. It was the reason he would follow him anywhere, the reason why he tried so hard to maintain their bond even when Blake seemed more interested in turning his back and disappearing god knows where without a word. Nobody would tolerate such misery, if there wasn't affection involved.

The doorman was a smart man, and not without a heart. He saw all of that flowing across his face, probably as clear as day, and let out a low sigh. "Have you considered that you might not care for him so much, if you knew what kind of club he chooses to frequent?"

"No," he answered immediately, clear on that if nothing else. "And you make it sound terribly portentous. What, are you all devil worshippers or something?"

"No, but-" the Doorman cut himself off, gave a heavy sigh. "You'd be surprised."

"I don't care what this club is for. I don't care if he's a devil worshipper, or a political revolutionary, or even in the habit of eating babies," he declared, leaning as close to the man as he could without appearing threatening. "I just need to see him."

The Doorman hesitated for a long moment. Which wasn’t a denial, wasn’t an attempt to turn him away, wasn’t anything negative at all.

“I don’t need to stay for long,” he said, trying to make his voice persuasive. It didn’t work very well, he had never had the gift of charming people at first sight, but he thought that at least a little of his desperation slipped in and that would just have to be enough. “I can just put my head in, check that he’s there and alright - making very sure not to look at or remember anybody else there - and then leave again without a backwards glance. I would be perfectly well behaved. I promise.”

The Doorman considered this for a long moment. And then gave a heavy sigh, glanced away from him in a faintly awkward manner “...I can’t let you into the club the way you are now.”

He wanted to scream. He wanted to yell, and rage, and force this unhelpful man to do exactly what he needed him to do. He wanted to sob, to let all his bitter frustration at this stupid world out in a satisfying bout of childish tears. He wanted… And then he saw the look on the Doorman’s face, and immediately allowed his desperation to show again. “What do I have to do?”

“I’m not sure that you’re going to like it,” the Doorman said reluctantly, but - mercifully - carried on before he had to actually prostrate himself on his hands and knees to beg for an audience. “If you were to take one of the initiation measures for the club, one of the less intrusive ones, just to keep the members here safe…”

“Alright,” he agreed immediately, made almost giddy by the thought of finally getting somewhere.

The Doorman blinked at him, seeming slightly taken aback by his eagerness. He didn’t really know why, surely he had already proven - even to an absolute stranger, who had no real context for his desperation - just how far he was willing to go for Blake’s sake. “You haven’t even heard what it is yet!”

“I’m willing to do anything to see Bl- my friend safe and well,” he said, absolutely honestly. “Is the initiation something particularly in depth, or harmful to myself or anybody else?”

“In some ways no, in some ways yes,” the Doorman hedged, and then saw the doubtlessly impatient look on his face and let out another one of those weary sighs. He had the decided impression that he was starting to annoy the man, but since it was finally starting to get him somewhere he found that he didn’t mind all that much. “You have to take a drink. A special drink, of our own concoction.”

“Oh.” That barely seemed anything at all. He had expected to have to prove himself with some great act of suffering, like Orpheus chasing nobly after Eurydice. “I definitely have no problem with that, then. Can I do it now?”

The Doorman blinked at him, seeming slightly taken aback by his eagerness yet again, but didn’t bother with a sigh this time. Instead he only turned to open the door behind him, and then leaned in to tug on what was presumably a bell pull within. When he returned to face him, there was an expression of heartfelt resignation on his face.

“Thank you,” he said, because it was only polite.

“Wait until you feel the effects, before you thank me,” the Doorman answered neutrally, which was hardly the most encouraging answer that he’d ever had but also hardly the worst. “Look… Are you absolutely sure about this, sir?”

He scowled at the man with what he felt was justifiable annoyance, considering how on edge he felt at present moment. “Why do you keep asking me, man?”

“I have my reasons,” the Doorman said, and gave a heavy sigh that was presumably meant to convey his utter exasperation with this unwise stranger who apparently had his heart set on doing stupid things. It wasn’t very effective, he’d tolerated Blake’s sighs on the subject for many years now. “You must really care about your friend, to go this far for him.”

He blinked a little at that, found himself staring into space as he thought about just how big a claim Blake had on his heart. “You have no idea. Besides my sister, I think he’s the only person who has ever seen potential in me in all my life. And that means a lot. He’s the smartest, bravest, most moral man that I’ve ever met and is one of only perhaps three people that I care for in the world. I would do absolutely anything for him, crawl on my hands and knees through hell if required.”

The Doorman blinked a little at his speech, and it was only then that he realized that a third figure had joined the two of them. The maid was, to his eye, scandalously dressed for a seemingly respectable establishment - her arms were entirely bare, and the front of her dress was cut so low that he could see most of her breasts. He blinked at her for a moment, before deciding that what she’d brought was far more important than his morals in this particular situation. She was bearing a tray, on which stood a cup filled with a strangely purple liquid.

“Here you are, sir. If you drink this, you’ll be able to see your friend in just a few minutes,” the Doorman said, still seeming slightly taken aback, and carefully handed the drink across to him. “But, again, if you aren’t entirely sure that you want to do this-”

His warning was rendered worthless almost as soon as it was out of his mouth. He regarded the cup of liquid for a long few moments, and then took in a deep breath and downed it in one heady gulp. It burned a little on the way down, but it was no worse than the weak beer they’d had in camp and consumed in service of a far worthier cause.

“...You know what, fine,” the Doorman said, giving in to his apparent insanity with a heartfelt eyeroll, and gestured the amusedly watching maid forward again. “Let Peithio show you in. Don’t hassle her in any way, and your route should be fairly simple.”

He thanked the man briefly, even though he looked like he wanted no part of his thanks, and followed the maid in through the heavy wooden door. Despite her mode of dress she led him forwards in a professional manner, glancing back only occasionally to check that he was following. She was a pretty enough girl, he supposed, but his attention was taken up almost entirely by other matters.

The initial opening of the club, what could plausibly be seen from street view, was actually rather respectable. There was a lot of oak panelling, and a few pictures of sedate looking matrons on the wall. It looked almost like one of his clubs, a fine Tory establishment in which even his rather hard to impress father would be happy to wile away the time.

And then they got deeper, and things steadily started to change. The first thing he noticed was that there were a lot more curtains than entirely respectable for a largely indoors establishment: flimsy things, that seemed there more for decoration than anything else. From there he noticed that the colours of the walls had subtly changed, deep brown panelling giving way to a far richer red shade. The last thing he noticed, and he was _never_ going to admit this to Blake for fear of his detective skills being roundly mocked, was the pictures: the subjects eventually started to stare directly out at the viewer as opposed to modestly glancing aside, and their expressions could best be described as hungry.

It only got worse from there. Just a little further in and it started to resemble nothing he had ever seen in Britain, transforming steadily into a place of gauzy decoration and decadent throws and a thick carpet that his feet sunk luxuriously into even in boots. The walls were downright red now, a shade that could only be described as lustful. And the portraits bordered on obscene, the subjects not only staring directly at the viewer but often seeming determined to strip off all of their clothes as they did so.

By the time that they reached a huge set of double doors, presumably the only solid things left in this sordid place, he was starting to sincerely wonder what Blake had got himself involved in. He was also, to what he was sure would be his lasting shame once they were both out of this situation, a little hot under the collar.

The maid, Peithio the Doorman had called her, was watching him. She seemed more amused than anything else, obviously well used to her place of work. “Here you go, sir.”

She worked in what seemed like a den of iniquity, but she seemed a nice enough girl and he didn’t want to treat her poorly for it. He dragged his eye away from one of the more obscene paintings, a young man who was seeming to have a great amount of fun with his hand, and forced himself to look at her directly. “Thank you, miss-”

Peithio just snorted at him, whether for his flailing or his attempt to treat her with respect, and turned to fling open the doors without a word more. He would’ve been slightly taken aback by the speed of her response, but… Well, in the next moment he was far too busy being taken aback by other matters entirely.

The room that was exposed was also like nothing he had ever seen before, not in Britain or in India or anywhere else in the world. It was absolutely filled with people, and most of them were in at least some stage of undress. They seemed to all revel in it, as they moved around with glasses of that strange purple coloured liquid and snacked on delicate food that even Soyer would’ve been impressed by. They all kept smiling at each other, and touching each other casually, and sometimes even grabbing each other playfully and dragging each other off to the nearest piles of cushions. It was like walking into the middle of a totally unexpected orgy.

He stared around in shock, more confused than he could ever recall being before and he was well aware that he had a rich history in that regard. He had no idea why Blake would’ve chosen a place such as this, and any ideas that immediately presented themselves made his stomach sour in a way that he had no idea what to do with.

Making it worse, so much worse, was that the atmosphere of the room was hardly failing to have an effect on him. He saw all these naked people, so close and intimate with each other, and he started to feel even hotter under the collar. He saw them downing drinks and laughing with each other and _touching_ each other, and he had to shift on his feet as a strange kind of energy flowed through him. He saw bodies moving against bodies, the sight of two men twined intimately together and both obviously loving it, and to his shame felt his cock start to stiffen between his legs.

And then, just as he was wondering if he was doomed to go mad entirely, he saw the flash of a familiar permanently stubbled face across the room. And he lost interest in all else, as his entire being narrowed in on Blake reclining naked on a pile of pillows like - for once - he actually owned the place.

“That him?” Peithio asked with interest next to him, and only gave him a grin as he startled guiltily and forced himself to look across at her again. “Thought so. Just look at you, practically drooling already.”

He wanted to refute that statement, if he had been at all in his right mind he probably would’ve, but at the moment he was feeling hot and itchy and it all seemed like rather too much effort. He glared at her impatiently, finding his usual manners eroded under the passionate desire to get closer to Blake and find out what the hell was going on. “Is there some kind of formal procedure, or…?”

This was obviously one of the best days of Peithio’s working life, and she wasn’t bothering to hide it. She only gave him an amused glance, gestured him across to Blake with a deliberately dismissive air. He heeded it, was walking before she finished even moving her hands.

He had never really thought of Blake’s naked body before, at least not consciously, but he found himself unable to drag his eyes away as he walked across the room now. Blake was deeply scarred, gaunt to the point where it was worrying and wiry in a way that hardly seemed entirely healthy. He should’ve been absolutely hideous, instead he was absolutely captivating with his gently peaked nipples and the greying trail of hair leading inevitably down to his half hard cock.

For once Blake wasn’t paying attention, for once he seemed more distracted by things other than him, and so he didn’t actually notice his presence until he was basically on top of him. It was only when he was basically standing right at his feet that he looked up with a decided lack of interest, and then immediately went wide-eyed and quickly tugged a pillow over himself. “William…”

“Jeremiah,” he said, wanting to say that Blake didn’t have to bother - that he’d already seen everything, but having no idea how to do it and not make things horrifically awkward between them. Even if that boat had already sailed, considering that they were currently standing together in the middle of an orgy and his own cock was still uncomfortably half hard in his breeches. “I must say, I didn’t expect to find you in such an establishment.”

“I feel much the same,” Blake said. He was trying to sound spiky, that was perfectly obvious, but for some reason it didn’t quite succeed. Instead he was coming off as languid, relaxed in a way that he’d never witnessed before. “Were you following me?”

“What was I supposed to do?” He demanded, his voice a great deal shakier than he would’ve liked, and went down into a crouch in front of Blake so their eyes were at an equal level. He had another brief glimpse of Blake’s cock, that seemed to have hardened in the past few minutes for some reason, before Blake carefully shifted the pillow to cover himself again. “You suddenly disappeared, without a word to me, and I genuinely wasn’t sure if you were alive or dead. You know how much I worry about you, how much I care for you no matter how _deeply_ annoying you are. I couldn’t bear the thought of you being alone and hurt, or _worse_ , and-”

Blake was staring at him, wide eyed again. There was quite obviously something wrong with the man, he had never seen his thoughts play out so obviously across his face in all the years of their acquaintance.

There was obviously something wrong with him, for that matter, for he had never intended to say quite that much. He found himself narrowly fighting a blush, running his hands over his face just to avoid Blake’s all seeing eyes for just a few moments longer “...I didn’t mean to say all that.”

“No,” Blake said softly, and his voice was a good deal milder than he’d become accustomed to hearing it. “This club has a way of drawing things out of you, of exposing vulnerable places that you’d have rather kept hidden. I would’ve warned you about it, _if_ I’d known you were going to be stupid enough to follow me when I didn’t ask for your presence.”

“Me, stupid?” He demanded, and only grew all the more incensed when Blake arched a very calm eyebrow at him. “Says the man lounging on a pillow in a den of iniquity. Jeremiah, what even is this place?”

“Not a den of iniquity, William, just… A place for indulging certain desires,” Blake said calmly, although did look very briefly riled at the ‘lounging on a pillow’ comment. “A place where you can let go of all the shit that ails you in everyday life, all the expectations that will crush you into the ground if you let them, and just be yourself at last.”

“I didn’t know that you had so much to escape from,” he said, slightly hurt despite himself. He had known, in his heart of hearts, that he didn’t matter as much to Blake as Blake did to him but it still hurt to have it thrown in his face in such a way. Especially after they’d been spending so much time together lately, after Helen had finally ran off with one of her gentlemen. Especially when he thought that they’d finally reached some kind of equilibrium at last.

“I’ve been hiding it from you,” Blake confessed; but, to his decided confusion, didn’t actually appear all that disinterested. He was sitting more upright on his pile of pillows now, and there was a strange intensity to his expression even through the deliberate languidness. “Especially from you.”

“What do you mean, especially from me?” He demanded, and hated just how needy his tone sounded. He had hoped to be able to hide the extent of his fruitless longing for Blake from the man himself, but apparently he wasn’t allowed even that much. “Blake, surely you have to know that I’m there for you? That I care for you? That I would try my very hardest not to judge you, no matter what your problems are? I would do anything for you, have done anything for you. I would crawl on my hands and knees over burning coals for your sake and your sake alone. If you’d just told me that you wanted to lounge around naked on pillows, I would’ve done my very best to- to…”

He trailed off in mild horror, pleased that he’d been able to stop himself just in time but startled by just how much he’d given away already. Blake was still watching him in much the same spirit as earlier, wide eyed and seeming genuinely startled.

“I didn’t mean to say all of that either,” he said carefully, trying his very hardest to remain calm and not just give into the unchained feeling currently running through him. He felt like he could do anything that he wanted, and apparently what he wanted stretched far further than ever before. “Jeremiah, what’s happening here?”

Blake stared at him for a long moment, measuring in a way that reminded him uncomfortably of their early days together in India. And then, very slowly, removed the pillow from where he’d been clutching it across his lap and set it deliberately to the side. “Look around.”

It was a classic Blakean non-answer, but he tamped down on his automatic irritation and glanced quickly around him instead. And saw exactly what he had the moment he’d entered this room, but this time in even more detail. Plenty of near naked people having fun, touching each other, losing themselves in the slide of bodies. People of all shapes and sizes and races, matronly women and beautiful young men and distinguished looking aristocrats and faintly grubby looking commoners. People in every single combination he had never allowed himself to think of, women with men and women with women and men with men and all of them obviously enjoying themselves immensely.

“It’s as if they’ve lost all inhibition,” he said carefully, and glanced back at Blake. And then found, to his profound shock, that he simply couldn’t glance away from that expanse of naked skin again. Instead he ate every single bit of it up with his eyes, obsessed with the sight in a way that he’d been obsessed with so few things in his lifetime. “I guess this club has a rather concrete way of drawing things out of you, huh?”

“You could say that,” Blake murmured, seeming almost comfortable in his nudity. He had to be aware of how much he was staring, of how disbelievingly desperate he was growing, but he didn’t move to cover himself again at all. “William, how did you get in here?”

He blinked a little at the question; attempted to draw himself up but, in the end, found that he simply couldn’t move even that far from Blake’s side. “I told you. I came here because-”

Blake lost his patience, albeit in a far calmer way than he had ever before. He reached out, with those calloused fingers that he’d foolishly never thought to appreciate before, and caught his jaw in a grip that was just this side of painful. “I didn’t ask why, William, I said _how_.”

He startled at the sudden touch, was stunned - and not a little embarrassed - to find himself growing mysteriously harder between his legs as if Blake had somehow managed to find a direct and rather confusing line to his cock. “I, uh, initially tried to force my way in. And when that didn’t work, as you won’t be surprised to hear, I accepted the Doorman’s deal and drank something that he said would protect the other patrons of the club.”

“Oh, Mera Larka.” Blake sighed. But while his tone was deliberately disappointed, there was a strange light in his eyes and a strange intimacy to his touch that somehow had him growing harder still. “Haven’t I taught you not to accept drinks from strange men?”

“He seemed perfectly nice at the time,” he said defensively, even though he was aware that it wasn’t much of a defence at all. He didn’t seem able to stop staring at Blake, to stop paying attention to Blake, to stop feeling Blake’s touch so very intimate against his skin. “What’s going to happen to me? Am I… Am I going to turn out like them?”

Blake smiled a little, seemingly at the thought of him being reduced to the level of a lustful animal, and kept holding onto him. Not just holding onto him, but gently stroking his jaw in a tender caress that felt more like the touch of a lover than a simple friend. “Only if you want to.”

“Oh,” he said dazedly in assent, even though that explained nothing at all yet again. Somehow it didn’t seem to matter much, with Blake stroking him like that. He found himself wondering, half disbelievingly, how that touch would feel on skin softer than his jaw. He found himself wondering, definitely disbelievingly, how that touch would feel on his now fully hard cock. 

“The drink doesn't turn you into anything you're not. It can't completely change you into a different person. It just makes things a bit, well, easier. Every single thing you do will still be your choice, just a choice made without any of your neuroses getting in the way,” Blake explained, and by the look in his eyes he wouldn’t have entirely minded stroking other bits of flesh either. “Which rather raises the question of what you want, William.”

“...I want you to be safe,” he decided to start with the most simple truth first, but was sure that more would soon follow as he gave in to the inevitable and started slowly to lean towards Blake. Moving closer and closer until he was finally bearing the man back against the pillows. “I want you to respect me, and listen to me, and not leave me behind again and again. I want you to show that you care for me, and not feel ashamed about how much I care for you in return. I want you to _need_ me as much as I have always needed you.” 

Blake’s eyes widened again at that, but he hardly seemed taken aback like last time. Instead he only reclined back against the pillows, accepting his new position underneath him with a surprising amount of passivity. “And are those the _only_ things you want from me, William?”

“I don’t-” he started, and then paused as he considered Blake’s obvious implication. Before he’d set foot in here he would’ve quite firmly said that he’d never thought of Blake in that way, but maybe that wasn’t entirely true. Maybe they had always been heading here slowly but surely, in slow increments of trust and loyalty and realizations that they were now the only two people in the world who fully understood each other. “I don’t know. What do you want from _me_ , Jeremiah?”

“A thousand things that I never thought myself worthy of,” Blake answered easily enough, whatever had been in his drink lending him either courage or madness. He kept ahold of his face, even while flat on his back, and even kept stroking him. His touch was gentle and teasing, and every so often he curved his fingers so he felt nails scrape along his skin and shuddered at the trails of sensation they raised. “The way you look at me like I’m the smartest man in the world, the way you trust me even when you shouldn’t, the way you keep giving me little pieces of yourself like you think I’m the only person capable of keeping them safe. The way you smile when something genuinely good happens, and the way you look thoughtful when your world shifts on its axis. The sight of you naked and baring yourself deliberately just for me. A thousand things more like that, and a thousand things besides. _You_ , in every single way humanly possible.”

He didn’t think that he’d ever heard the man say quite so much before, especially not so much of an emotional nature. He found himself gawping, utterly taken aback. “Jeremiah…”

“I’ve always been able to hold myself back before, no matter how much I wanted and how much I dreamed,” Blake said softly, sounding almost regretful. He wanted to chase that regret away, and replace it with glorious certainty. “You deserve far better than me, you know. An old, washed up former company agent who permanently believes that life is going to end in shit and pain for everybody unfortunately involved.”

He thought for a moment, but in the end the answer was obvious. It had always been obvious, and he had just been too stupid to look. “I don’t want better than you. I don’t believe that there _is_ anybody better than you.”

“You think that at the moment, with a drugged drink flowing through your veins and all of your inhibitions nowhere to be found. But what will you think when the drugs wear off? What will you think in the cold light of day, when you realize that you’ve bound yourself to a man utterly incapable of giving you a future?” Blake stared at him with his customary intensity for a long few moments. And then huffed out a long sigh, and allowed his expression to fade to something helplessly dreamy yet again. “It’ll be unfortunate. But what’s even more unfortunate is that, at present moment, I can’t stop myself from wanting you.”

They stared at each other for a long moment in silence, hovering right on the edge of a precipice that they both knew they could never come back from. He was dimly aware of the club still moving around them, and his entire life moving just beyond that, but it didn’t seem to matter at the moment. There was only Blake, with his dreamy intensity and scarred skin and finally - _finally_ \- his heart right there in his eyes.

In the end, his decision was alarmingly simple.

The kiss was wildfire, more passionate than he’d ever shared with another human being before. And while part of him wondered at it, a far larger part found it simply inevitable. There was only the softness of Blake’s lips, the rasp of Blake’s stubble against his recently shaved skin, the way that Blake’s naked body - usually so very tense - seemed to melt underneath him. There was only the little gasp that Blake gave when their tongues tangled together, which he was tempted to say was the best noise he had heard in all his life.

Perhaps he should take this slow, perhaps he should remember that they were currently in an exposed club where everybody could see them and rather sharply regain his senses, but suddenly it seemed like he’d been taking it slow for all of his life and he desperately wanted to see what it was like in the fast lane. He slipped one hand into Blake’s overlong hair and bore him back to the pillows, determined to touch every single part of him.

Blake allowed this for a moment, for once pliant and willing to do whatever he suggested. He moaned into his mouth again, and grasped his back with tight hands that he felt like brands even through his clothing, and even tangled their legs together in the ultimate show of intimacy. But he was Blake, even a definitely drugged Blake, and he could only stand to be amiable for so long. One moment they were kissing desperately, Blake arching up beneath him; the next the entire world was shifting, and in the blink of an eye he found himself on his back with Blake straddling his hips smugly.

He probably should’ve protested that, indeed a protest was right on the edge of his tongue, but Blake already had it in his mind to distract him from anything of the sort. The man tore off his clothes in quick and efficient movements, his obvious goal to get them just as naked as each other. He ripped off his coat, and then his waistcoat, and then his hastily tied cravat. He unbuttoned his shirt, and yanked it from his trousers with what he felt was a rather undue amount of force, He undid his high waisted trousers, and dragged them down off his hips along with his underclothes. He even removed his shoes, with two quick tugs that made him smile a little at the impossible attention to detail.

When they were naked together Blake immediately slid back onto his lap, obviously not in the mood for a delay, and took his mouth again. The kiss this time was even more unchained than before, shameless in a way that could only be called filthy. It was so much better with skin against skin, their cocks brushing fleetingly together as their tongues tangled. He felt hot all over, he felt like he wanted to do something absolutely mad and drag Blake along with him for the ride.

Blake obviously felt the same way as him; and, as ever, was far braver in going after what he truly wanted. He rocked down against him for a moment more, seeming just as lost as him in the slide of flesh against flesh, and then reached down between them and closed his hand around his cock.

“Ah!” He said into the small space between them, less than a gasp away from Blake’s lips, and felt his entire body jolt forward at the contact.

Blake smiled at that, and it was the kind of smile that he had never seen on the man’s face before. It was sly and secretive, yes, but it was also lustful and longing. Blake’s entire heart was in that smile. “Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” he said instantly, beyond instantly, for the answer was absolutely obvious and would’ve been even if Blake hadn’t been touching his cock. “To hell and back.”

Blake seemed a little startled at that, but then quite obviously pleased. He started the pump of his hand on his cock slowly but steadily, teasing briefly at the head before dipping down to slowly move his entire hand over the length of him. It was like he wanted to learn him, to strip him absolutely bare and study all the component parts.

It was strange to have another man’s hand on his cock, strange to feel the sensation of another _person’s_ hand on his cock because somehow it hadn’t seemed entirely proper to ask any of his partners to do so up until now, but not exactly in a bad way. He remained vibrating tense under Blake’s hand for a long few moments, and then let out a low groan and surrendered himself completely. If he knew anything, it was that he trusted Blake to do what was right for him in this.

The speed of Blake’s hand on him soon increased, quickly proving him exactly right. Blake settled into a steady rhythm quickly, paying attention to his every single reaction like they were all of vital importance. The man quickly learnt just how he wanted to be gripped, the correct speed to move at for maximum pleasure, the perfect way to move his thumb. Forget stripping him bare, it quickly became apparent that he wanted to take him apart entirely.

He was hardly opposed to this. In fact, if anything, he only melted further onto the pillows and let Blake do anything that he wanted to him. There was only the movement of his hand, the intensity of his eyes, the sweetness of his smile as he steadily worked to make him fall apart. The arousal boiled higher and higher in him, sending him half mad with the intensity of it, and he genuinely wondered if he’d ever felt passion before this moment.

Blake kept pushing him onwards with a single minded focus, driving him mad in the best of ways. He had obviously wanted this for quite some time, judging not just by his words but by the way he was moving. He had never had a partner pay so much attention to his pleasure, never had a partner who seemed to gain so much pleasure from it himself. Blake was obviously falling apart too, slower than him but with the same steady madness in his eyes.

He felt completely unchained, entirely shameless. It didn’t matter that they were in a club with so many people present and maybe even watching, it didn’t matter that they hadn’t allowed themselves to want each other until this day, it didn’t matter that the entire world stood between them and what they wanted. He gave himself fully over to the pleasure, arched up beneath Blake and moaned like a common whore and abandoned himself entirely to an experience so pleasurable that he genuinely wasn’t sure if he’d ever be allowed anything so wonderful again.

Before long, though, it started to become too much and not enough all at the same time. He found himself arching up even more desperately, dragging Blake back down into an artless kiss and panting out desperate words in between the movements of their lips. “More. Please, Jeremiah, I need-”

“Oh, Mera Larka,” Blake said, his voice almost dreamy, and drew away from his lips so swiftly that he couldn’t hold back from a sharp noise of protest at the deprivation. “Let me take care of _you_ , for once.”

He wasn’t entirely sure what that meant, considering that Blake was currently leaning away from him instead of doing what he wanted and diving ever further into his orbit, but the answer soon became apparent. Blake leant off to the side, still not entirely climbing off his body, and dug up a bottle of oil that’d apparently been placed there for some special purpose.

He narrowed his eyes at it, confused and not a little displeased at this interruption, but Blake again seemed dead set on distracting him. He opened up the bottle, poured a little oil onto his palm and didn’t even bother to warm it as he slid it back between his legs. The positive was that the distraction most definitely worked, the feeling of Blake wrapping his hand around him again - except this time, a hand completely slick with oil - was probably going to be driving him out of his mind for years to come.

Despite this, though, he wasn’t distracted enough not to notice Blake reaching behind himself with his other hand. Obviously searching for something with an expression of complete concentration.

It soon became obvious what he was doing. Blake sunk a finger into himself with a low groan, not even bothering with any teasing before he pushed it into himself up to the knuckle. He paused for a long moment, presumably getting used to the burn, and then let out another groan and slowly started to rock his hips up and down on the penetrating digit. He was obviously preparing himself for something, and by the expression on his face that preparation was ecstasy.

He couldn’t help but watch, utterly stunned by the sight. It occurred to him that he’d never seen Blake fully vulnerable before. He had seen the man injured, tired, battered beyond recognition, at the end of his rope, even on death’s door… But even at his very worst he had retained a certain edge to him, a carefully built wall between him and the rest of the world. That was entirely gone now, and his expression was gloriously raw.

Blake kept going, too high on what he suspected was a mixture of the drink and the occasion to care overmuch about how much he was baring. He slicked up a second finger carefully, and slid that into himself without much teasing either. He was properly fucking down onto his hand now, and judging by the awkward movements of his wrist was moving his fingers inside in a way that seemed odd but was obviously producing wonderful results.

He wanted a part of that, just as he had wanted every single part of Blake for years now. He reached out tentatively, found himself pressing a desperate hand over Blake’s heart for a long moment before sliding it down and around until he could grip his hip in a silent plea.

For any other person it would’ve been too obscure, a desperate plea without any kind of language at all, but Blake had always been an expert at reading him. He stiffened for a moment as he absorbed the begging, seemed right on the edge of deciding that that was a line too far and withdrawing from their encounter altogether…

But Blake’s inhibitions were still lowered, and he had obviously wanted this for just as long as him and known about that wanting for far longer. The man let out a low sigh, and then carefully shifted until their hands were joined and he was able to carefully slick up his probing fingers with oil. He didn’t wait for any further permission, or any further drawing back for that matter, once he had the oil on him. Instead he simply made a noise of wordless thanks, and pressed his own hand eagerly between Blake’s legs.

They fingered him together, his probing finger sliding in neatly between the two of Blake’s already in there. It was hotter than he’d been expecting, and also significantly dryer than he recalled a woman’s entrance ever being. It was still tight, though, and Blake’s flesh seemed determined to cling to him in the most delicious way. Before long he was thrusting his finger in with a steadily growing abandon, and watching the growing expression of pleasure on Blake’s face - Blake’s glorious face - with even more.

He got to do it for long enough to decide that it was his new favourite thing. And then, quite suddenly, Blake made a desperate noise that resembled a growl and pulled all three fingers - the two of his own, and his alongside them - out of his body sharply.

He blinked for a moment, confused and about five seconds away from protesting with all due heat, but Blake’s purpose soon became clear. The man shifted a little up his body, and wrapped a careful hand around his cock again. And then he was slowly crouching down, bearing down onto him in a way that should’ve been terribly lewd but instead seemed so very right.

The initial slide onto his cock was slow and careful, as if Blake was getting used to this himself. It was one of the most maddening sensations he’d ever experienced, so pleasurable that he half feared going out of his mind with the joy of it. There was so much heat, so much tightness, so much _Blake_ above him and around him and consuming his attention in every single possible way.

Blake didn’t stop even once as he lowered himself down, only continued the slow process of taking him inch by inch until he was fully seated on his hips. And only then did he meet his eyes properly again, stare down at him with a certain level of disbelief as if he wasn’t sure how they had ever ended up here. How they had ever ended up admitting that they actually wanted each other, instead of dancing around the subject forever.

He was fairly disbelieving himself, but he always had been a man of action instead of words. He reached up his hands to clutch at Blake’s hips for a long moment, feeling the slightly worrying boniness of them underneath his grip, and then took a proper grip upon them and _yanked_ the man down into another savage kiss.

Blake stiffened against him again for a long moment, having obviously not expected to be dragged in so eagerly, and then gave in to the inevitable. His answering kiss was absolutely amazing, a thing of teeth and tongue and wondrous desperation. Even better, though, was the way he rolled his hips into movement at the exact same time; fucking down onto him as he fucked into his mouth with his tongue.

They started off fairly slowly at first, getting used to each other as they kissed. He had never fucked a man before, and although he had no doubt that Blake was more experienced than him - apparently in every single way - it had obviously been a while for him. Their thrusts were tentative and careful, him rolling his hips up gently as so not to hurt Blake and Blake rocking down on him softly so not to hurt him. There was genuinely more pleasure in the kissing than in the fucking.

There was still pleasure, though, and fairly decided pleasure at that. Blake clenched down on him deliberately on every thrust, and starbursts exploded behind his eyes every single time. He would’ve been worried about being incapable of pleasing the man in return, but Blake seemed especially sensitive around his hips and the hollow of his lower back and so he soon discovered that it was relatively easy to drive him out of his mind in return. They went slow and steady, but he had absolutely no doubt that they could blow each other’s minds with pleasure the moment they got used to it.

And get used to it they did. It wasn’t long before Blake deliberately started to pick up the pace, obviously no longer content to kiss and be caressed in return. He growled into his mouth again, and then started to move his hips properly. Quickly settled into a bouncing rhythm that juddered the pillows beneath them and sent even more pleasure inevitably flowing through him.

He attempted to give as good as he got, being driven out of his mind as he was. He kept kissing Blake, because that simple point of contact seemed incredibly significant somehow. He brought his hands to Blake’s back properly, and made sure to scratch there every single time Blake completed a downwards thrust. He rolled his hips up eagerly, actively participating in the rhythm instead of just mutely submitting to it. He was determined to find pleasure in this, for them both to find pleasure in this, and so it was no surprise when he did.

They both settled into the wonder of the rhythm between them eagerly, both dedicating themselves wholeheartedly to the art of falling apart. He was dimly aware that there was an entire world outside of them, an entire room extremely close and probably watching considering how desperately they were taking each other, but somehow it didn’t seem to matter much. Not when Blake was on top of him, giving himself up to him in the most perfect of ways.

Blake seemed utterly heedless of it all too. Blake seemed unchained in a way that he’d never seen him before, and now wanted to see him indulging in all the time. His head was sometimes thrown back in pure pleasure, and sometimes tilted forwards so their lips could join again. He growled frequently, and moaned, and even cried out once or twice as a particularly sweet spot was hit within him. The look in his eyes, whenever he opened them and they inevitably met, was desperate to the point of awe.

It wasn’t long before they moved past their nice little rhythm, and into something a great deal more desperate. He wasn’t sure who started to drive them over the edge, but he supposed that it didn’t matter much in the end because neither of them moved to stop it. The outside world still didn’t matter, and - alongside that - neither did any idea of restraint or tentativeness. There was only the two of them, joined perfectly together, and they had made a silent pact to enjoy it.

He drove almost brutally up into Blake, Blake drove savagely down onto him in return. He clawed desperately at Blake’s back, leaving scratches there so the man couldn’t possibly forget what they’d done the next day; Blake responded by at first nipping at his lips, and then his wonderfully vulnerable throat. He moaned shamelessly, Blake groaned in return. They kissed each other desperately and constantly, losing themselves in each other’s lips in a way that they were never going to be able to forget in the future. The pleasure rushed over them like a tsunami, an impossibly wonderful wave.

Given all of that, it wasn’t long before they both started to fall apart entirely. He was the one to start losing it first, which he was pretty sure both of them would’ve fully expected had they been properly capable of thought. He groaned desperately into Blake’s mouth, and felt his hips stutter as he started to lose the rhythm that they’d painstakingly built up between them. He wanted to feel bad about that, he really did, but instead he settled for clutching Blake to him as closely as he could and settling in to appreciate the building pleasure.

Blake was right behind him with the loss of rhythm, which was somewhat of a surprise to him considering how carefully controlled the man usually was. But none of that was on display now, and so perhaps it was perfectly appropriate for a Blake unleashed. The movements of his hips grew wild and uncoordinated, chasing his pleasure clumsily instead of deliberately zeroing in on it. The bites to his lips became harsher, and the soothing kisses afterwards messier like he just couldn’t control himself. The growling noise he was making became pretty much constant, a litany of uncontrolled sound that was perhaps the most tempting thing that he had ever heard. In that moment he was fearsome, in that moment he was utterly beautiful.

And considering all of that, how on earth was he supposed to resist? He spent himself into Blake’s body with several quick pumps of his hips, and then found himself clutching the man in the aftermath in a way that was both shuddering and desperate. He had never experienced an orgasm such as that before, it emptied him out entirely and left his mind pure in return.

Blake, to his mild surprise, was only seconds after him and seemed to fall apart even more desperately when he followed over the edge. He cried out so loudly that it echoed around the room, and clutched him desperately, and fell apart entirely in his arms in the sweetest of ways. He had never seen Blake fall entirely apart before, and it was a privilege he thought would never be equalled. There was something to be said, for holding the most ferocious person you knew in your arms as he shuddered apart around you.

And then they were both emptied out, and both utterly exhausted in the aftermath of it. They remained tense for a long moment more, clinging to each other like they just couldn’t stop, and then he let out a weary sigh and slumped back against the pillows. A moment of hesitation followed, and then Blake fell down besides him in a way that could best be described as boneless.

Eventually he stirred from his boneless and dreaming state, and turned his head to find Blake already looking at him. His expression was strange, it obviously wanted to be regretful but there was a kind of peace there that he'd never dreamed to see before.

When Blake noticed him looking, he stirred a little in discomfort and unsuccessfully tried to bring one of those familiar walls down over his face. "Are you alright?"

He had to arch an eyebrow at that, even sleepy as he was, and glance down their still joined bodies. His cock buried deeply in Blake's arse, as it should be. "I should be asking you that, considering."

"You really shouldn't," Blake disagreed, narrowing his eyes at him. And then sighed, and reached out to gently cup his face again. "I'm sorry about this, Wi- Avery."

He scowled at the downright clumsy attempt to withdraw, pointedly rolled his hips up again - driving his now softening cock into Blake's body - in a move that was petty but deeply satisfying. “Why?”

"I should've held myself back, and not seduced you like a whore in some seedy club where you wouldn't have set foot if it wasn't for me," Blake said, his voice gratifyingly breathless. He stared down at him for a long moment, his expression unreadable, and then obviously decided that he might as well go the whole hog now that they were at this point. "But I just wanted you so much. I've been dreaming of this since I was forced to leave India, if not before. You've been the only thing in my mind for the past few years, and I just couldn't resist any longer."

As confessions went it was the best one he'd ever received. He gawped for a moment, and then wrapped his arms back around Blake's waist even tighter than before. "I've been thinking of you too."

"You have not," Blake snorted, and held up a hand before he could argue the point. Before he could explain that perhaps the longing hadn't been entirely conscious, or conscious at all until he'd entered this club, but that Blake had been his one obsession for almost longer than he could remember. "And you're going to wake up in the morning, hopefully far away from here, and regret this. And then where will we be?"

He hesitated for a long moment, not liking the heartbreaking vulnerability in Blake's voice, and then firmed his resolve and did the only thing he could do. He reached out, firmly but gently, and brushed the hair away from Blake's face so their eyes could meet properly. "Have I ever regretted anything I did with you before?"

It was the absolute truth, and Blake knew it. He hesitated for a long moment, and then let out an incredibly heavy sigh and melted into his arms.

It wasn't an overwhelming victory, here in an unexpected sex club in the middle of London, but it was a start. And he was willing to take all that he could get, for the sake of Blake and the future he knew stretched before them.


End file.
